


Persistence of Memory

by eveshka



Series: Tales of the Dawn King [26]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, Spoilers, you know the drill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-11 07:29:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11143734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eveshka/pseuds/eveshka
Summary: Noctis wasn’t dead. No, but it had been five years, and some sort of remembrance was in order.





	Persistence of Memory

**Author's Note:**

> Rating: T  
> Warnings: None  
> Characters: Ignis Scientia, Stasios Teleon, Licinia Ferrae, Jonstabas Hostin  
> Time Period: Year 5 of Darkness  
> Location: Lestallum

It had taken some convincing to get Ignis to agree to attend the glass raising. There didn't need to be a glass raising; Noctis wasn’t dead. No, but it had been five years, and some sort of remembrance was in order. Please, nothing quite so formal; it wasn’t Noctis’ style. Agreed, though the Kingsglaive had traditions, as did the Crownsguard. The glass raising was going to happen. And Ignis would attend.

Not for the first time Stasios wondered if Ignis himself had felt the way he now felt. For all the stories he had heard of the advisor and the Prince, Stasios knew that he was to Ignis very likely close to what Ignis had been to Noctis. And if Noctis had been half as difficult to deal with… well, it was a good thing that Stasios loved Ignis. That was all Stasios was going to allow on the matter.

He wasn’t going to wonder if Ignis had loved Noctis, that went without saying. A man couldn’t stand steadfast by someone without some form of love. Romantic, platonic, tied up with red string… there had to be love in the equation. Which, of course, made things all the more difficult. A head in mourning was one thing. A heart was an entirely different creature. How well he understood that.

Stasios sat back in his chair, looked over to the almost too-still figure lounging in his chair, and clapped his hands on his thighs before rising. “I’m going to get a quick shower, and then you can have it. And don’t worry; I’ll put the bottle back this time.” He'd left the shampoo in the wrong place once. Just once, and Stasios was sure he’d never hear the end of it. Of course, it might have been because Ignis had ended up using the bath oils in his hair and it had taken hours to get it all out.

In retrospect, Stasios should not have been surprised when Ignis joined him ten minutes later, slipping in under the water as if he'd been invited. And Stasios said nothing when Ignis waited until he was facing him to rest his head on his shoulder. He simply brought his arms around Ignis and held him. Quiet moments, such as this made Stasios understood that Ignis loved him, even if the other man never said it.

They showered, and Stasios sat a somewhat subdued Ignis down and did his hair for him, then quietly oversaw as Ignis dressed. Ignis chose his Crownsguard uniform, and Stasios donned his Kingsglaive uniform. It was a somber affair, and Stasios simply kept an eye on Ignis instead of attempting to make him talk.

When they were as ready as they could be, they left for the Leville.

 

The room was quiet when Stasios and Ignis stepped in, and Stasios led Ignis to the small table to the side, whispering quietly in his ear to orient the man before saluting the table and moving to stand behind his seat beside Licina. She took Stasios’ hand, squeezed it gently, and they waited.

Ignis stood at the smaller table, silent, still. His hand had fallen to the back of the chair when Stasios had released it, and he showed no inclination to move it. Stasios was just about to move to draw Ignis away when the Crownsguard turned towards the others and approached them.

“Tradition dictates the Missing Man table, but to you I challenge that. Noctis is not lost. He has not fallen. He is not dead. He will return. It has been five years, yes. Five years of struggle, of uncertainty. But if there is one thing of which I am certain beyond my own life: Noctis Lucis Caelum. Is. Not. Dead.”

And with that, Ignis took his seat and folded his hands on the table, as if to indicate that he had said all he was on the matter.

Stasios sat, buried his face in his hands, and prayed to the Six that the night would not end in bloodshed. He lifted his head when Licina patted his shoulder and leaned forwards, pouring water from a pitcher into glasses. “Crownsguard Scientia, you know him the best… we only know him in passing. Most of what we know came by way of Ulric.”

“Nyx Ulric,” Ignis began, “was a master escape artist, a cunning Kingsglaive, and a menace to society.”

Stasios put his head back in his hands. Why had he insisted Ignis come to the glass raising? Oh yes, because he thought it was a good idea.

Licinia rolled her eyes, and then snorted for Ignis’ benefit. “Careful, Scientia, that’s my man you’re dissing.” There was, however, humor in her voice. “He ran a few covert missions to obtain difficult spices for you, as I recall.” As she spoke, she passed around the glasses, and then reached for the basket of dark rough bread that had become a staple to life in the darkness of night.

“As I said; a cunning Kingsglaive,” Ignis demurred, waving off the bread when she offered it. “Loyal and true to the end, while somehow rakish and loose on his feet. I did what I could to mitigate his influence over His Highness, or had none of you quite figured out how Nyx Ulric landed the role of personal guard to the Lady Lunafreya?”

Licinia sat back and extended her hand to Jon, who sighed, pulled a coin from his pocket, and handed it over. Stasios exhaled softly, and Ignis tilted his head. “A wager?”

She showed the coin in her fingers to Stasios before tapping Ignis’ fingers with it. “No, it’s his challenge coin. When the shit hit the fan, he gave it to us, said to get it to the Prince as a promise to keep the Lady Lunafreya safe. He’d collect it when it was all over.”

Ignis untangled his hands and took the coin, running his fingers along the decorated surface as Licinia spoke. “We know he got her to Libertus, who got her out. We don’t know what happened to Nyx. Libertus said he’d turned back to keep fighting, but we never learned what happened. We’ve kept the coin between us, waiting for…” her voice faltered, and she cleared her throat. “Waiting for His Majesty to return.”

Stasios watched as Ignis turned the coin over in his hand, and then passed it back to Licinia. Any trace of emotion was carefully shielded from the Crownsguard’s face, held where the others in the room couldn't see it. Surprise lifted Ignis’ eyebrows when Licina pushed the coin back to him. “You are the closest to him amongst us, Ignis Scientia. It is you who should hold Nyx’s coin for the King.”

Ignis seemed to consider for a few moments, and then shook his head, holding the coin out. “I believe it wise that you give him the coin, as I am certain he would appreciate the stories of Nyx Ulric as only you can tell them. Keep the coin and the tales for when you can give them to His Majesty.”

She took the coin back from Ignis, looked to Stasios for a moment, and then slipped the coin back across to Jon. “So tell us about His Majesty, please?”

Silence reigned, and Stasios felt his heart fall. Ignis was right; this was a bad idea. The King wasn't dead, and forcing Ignis to participate in this was only making the man shut down, close off. Stasios was just about to open his mouth when Ignis spoke. “I will tell you about Noctis, yes. But not as a wake. Not as a loss or a suffering, but as a celebration, so you may better understand when I say he is not dead. Merely, as the table suggests, missing. Away, for a time, yet to return.”

Stasios put his head back in his hands and Licina patted his shoulder. “As I said, Crownsguard Scientia, you know him best.”

“Please, call me Ignis. I am amongst friends, am I not?” At the sounds of consent, Ignis nodded, and took up his glass of water, running his fingers along the rim of the glass while he spoke. “Noctis... would very likely prefer others to perceive him as himself. Not the last in the line of the Lucis Caelum, not the King of a kingdom, or a scion of import. From an early age, he objected to my referring to him as ‘Highness,’ often refusing to answer unless I used his name.”

That caused a ripple of laughter, and Stasios watched as Ignis’ face softened in fondness as he spoke. Lines of tension around his lips had faded, and there was the vague hint of a smile instead. It looked good on him, and Stasios wished he could bring that smile to fullness, though he knew it wasn’t to be.

“The tales of a young man who resembled the Prince of Lucis assisting people run all through Lucis, even as far out as the Vesperpool. Some folks say that he and his companions were top Hunters, second only to the Ghost,” Jon said.

That almost brought out Ignis’ smile. “Indeed, if Noct heard of someone in need, he would drive the rest of us to near distraction… though perhaps not quite so bad as Prompto and his love of chocobos.”

“Oh Six, that damned song…” Licinia muttered, and then shook her head.

“Try being in a car for hours with him singing. How Noct slept through it, I will never know,” Ignis shot back, making them all laugh.

Stasios, separate from the moment, watched Ignis as he laughed. This light was what he’d heard the dark-haired prince-now-king had brought to others, and no wonder they all stood for him. He’d wanted to know the man who had stood by his prince, and this was the first time he was seeing glimpses. Stasios didn’t want it to end. “I didn’t arrive in Lucis until later than everyone here… what was he like as a child?”

“Stubborn, impertinent, a holy terror to chase after, and quite possibly the sweetest child you could ever meet… when he wanted something, or it was a small animal. There was a cat that lived by the back doors of the kitchen, and it upset Noct something terrible that the cat didn’t have a home. So, on Noct’s orders, I attempted to befriend the thing.” Ignis sipped his water, and continued.

“Of course, the cat wanted no part in this, but Noct was insistent. When it stormed, he’d be adamant that we put a box out for it to hide in, and was inconsolate until the cat was spotted the next day. Eventually the cat grew accustomed to my presence, becoming almost friendly. After that, the cat more or less moved into Noct’s rooms, though it came and went as it wished, and in the end, Noctis buried it under the rosebush in his own version of a state funeral with all the kitchen staff attending.”

That brought smiles to everyone’s faces, and they paused to indulge in bread and a few idle moments of chatter, mostly related to things they’d heard or knew about Noctis. Someone mentioned favorite memories, and everyone turned to Ignis, who still hadn’t eaten. Stasios knew that the dark unleavened bread wasn’t the man’s favorite, but the grain had grown in artificial light and it fed the people who had desperately needed food.

“My favorite memory?” Ignis clarified, considering. “There are so many from which to choose. How does one select a single moment from a lifetime?” He shook his head slowly. “I do not think I could untwine the moments. Every memory is treasured equally and without reservation. To attempt to choose but one is simply too painful.” His words were sad, but his voice held fondness as well.

Stasios smiled in spite of himself, and Licina’s hand touched his gently. When he looked to her, he saw her smile was sad, but he shook his head and smiled at her. Ignis’ love was his love too, and so by proxy, Stasios loved Noctis. The King brought light to Ignis, and that was enough for Stasios.

Jon leaned forwards and waved his hand for attention. “One of my favorite memories, guys. Kid you not. I guess he was almost eight; it was before that horrible attack. Anyway, he was riding piggyback on the back of a boy not much older than he was, and man… the smile on his Highness’ face. It was like the sun itself came out to shine right then.”

Ignis suddenly downed his drink and rose, his face unreadable. Surprised, everyone turned to him, but instead of speaking, the younger man turned unerringly for the door and exited the room swiftly.

“That was probably Ignis you saw with him, Jon. Give us a moment,” Stasios said quietly and then rose to follow his companion.

When Stasios stepped out into the lobby of the Leville, Ignis was nowhere in sight. After a brief moment, Stasios turned and left the Leville proper, looking around the fountain. No Ignis. He moved on towards the overlook, but even before he fully approached, he could see that there was no-one tempting fate. Home, then. Ignis must have returned to his residence.

Except Stasios didn’t find him there, either.  
It would be a month before Stasios would lay eyes on an emaciated and disoriented Ignis, and another three after that before he took him in his arms.


End file.
